


Autumn & Spring Cafe

by Itachi_S_Lucius



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bottom Uzumaki Naruto, F/M, Female Uzumaki Naruto, M/M, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27835330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius
Summary: The fall is a season that readies the world for the cold in preparation for the sweeping winter to follow. It shows a bright change unto the world; much likened to springtime when in rain, reading the blossoms of summer.If desperate enough to look, one may find many similarities to this comparison with the two people sitting together nearby.
Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Accidental

We sat within a coldened corner of the booth, both of us pertaining a slight tremor invoked by the winter winds sweeping underneath a poorly constructed wall. He was silent across from me, though the tapping of his painted nails against the wood of the table in an exact pattern; to a beat I could not hope to follow or comprehend in any manner, but repeating. I didn’t know him, at least, not to my knowledge. His hair and face were purposefully obstructed by the drape of his cloak, and he had yet to speak anything so I could not put a name to voice. Though, it is not clear unto me what he is doing, his other arm rests loosely over his knee and the right-most side of his hood faces me more then the left. Nearby, at our left there is an opening to gaze through in the wood. Perhaps he is looking for something more interesting to capture his attentions, perhaps he is gazing at a beautiful woman wrapped in a winter kimono, I cannot say I know.

He brought me to the small cafe, when we had stumbled into each other upon a misunderstanding: I had been knocked down by a tower of a man, whom had little care for chivalry or humility. The man had me held by my neck on the fencing nearby, cutting at my air and panicking my sudden limp limbs. It was as my mind began to clear once more to recall that I could indeed use force against him if I wished too, when I had a kunai already prepped in my left hand as my right tore relentlessly into the tall mans forearm will all the sharp curve my miniature nails could conjure, it was then that my current companion made his appearance.

A shinobi, I have no doubts, especially now; but even then, as he did not so much as flinch when he was yelled at to leave -or perhaps he did, but his cloak obstructed the sight to my eyes- Instead, I remember my attacker merely let out a shout -I presume of pain- before I was released, and I’d relished in the air provided. I remember having gasped out a strangled ‘thank you’ to my unwitting savior.

Afterwards however, my memory hazes over ever so slightly to where I sit now, waiting for him to speak something to me in turn. For though I should have paid him by dept for the aid, he was the one who had bought the tea I currently sip at. His is still steaming at his hand’s side, while his plate of triple coloured dango sits untouched. Mine is finished near me, and I continue to burn the tip of my tongue each time I take to tipping my cup instead of merely speaking up. Maybe he merely wishes for me to finish so that he may rapidly leave, and yet, regardless of the fact that I am wearing my henge over my recognizable form in a tiny town to the south of Konoha, my paranoia still calls in my head that as most, he simply wants a night off of me for his service. I have often -under this henge at least, been confused for a street whore.

It takes me a second to form the words, how to make it obvious that I am grateful for his help, but that I won’t offer myself up in exchange.“Why have you taken me to tea? Because if you just want my body as a thank you, then I’m sorry, but I’m not a begger like that, so you can just forget it.” The tapping stops then, and his finger remains lifted from the table as his breathing audibly hitches. It lays once more as his shoulders sag.

“That, was not my intention.” It was my simple intention to look like a simple beggar from Konoha, in hope of getting some food and maybe shelter in a small town, escaping the ANBU unit currently attempting to track me happens to be a bonus. I cannot know his motivations for stopping in such a remote area, supplies perhaps, but one would think an upper-class shinobi would know that weapons aren’t in stock within places such as this.

I set my cup down, I don’t know the man in any fashion, yet he bought me food and I owe it to him, if not myself, to listen to his explanation. He folds into himself slightly, as his gaze appears to return to the outside rather then staring directly at me. “Then why did you help me? That type of manhandling is just common, you had no need to bother yourself with it.” An interesting tare on my fakened dress suddenly becomes interesting, my fingers play with it and the dirt-crusted edges it has. I find myself looking outside however, naturally there aren’t many people about, but the few that do seem to be in a slightly better situation then myself.

“Does it matter terribly? I know what his intentions were just as you. He was a rogue shinobi from Iwa whom I was tasked with disposing of, I simply aided where I was already needed.” My fingers stop at the information, and I look to the nonchalant man before me. I feel my breath catch in my chest for a moment, before remembering where I am; I hadn’t known that the guy who attacked me was a shinobi, though I should have guessed, he was incredibly built and had intense strength as the grip on my neck could well attest. My feeble kunai would have done nothing but place me in the ground had the encounter continued, or, more likely, I would have been raped priour to being killed; regardless, still not a pleasant thought. “You so happened to be ample distraction: however, that does not mean I had wanted anyone else to be involved.” My tea looks appealing once more, its comforting to know that some shinobi still have care if a civilian is hurt in a skirmish, I feel the simper resting on my lips unintended as it is.

I want to thank him again, more appropriately this time, but my curiosity rings in my ears. “So why would he travel so close to Konohagakure, seems rather dangerous to me.” I’m playing a little, I know why he was about here, or at least, I can wager a fair guess. After all, I had attempted to gain stock, a weapon, from this area once as a child, though it had been forbidden at the time, and my henge had been rather poor, I had been in for a surprise whence realizing they didn’t hold any even in the ‘ _weapons store.’_ I only recently just found out that this town is a clever ruse for any potential enemies and rogue ninja who may think of buying kunai or even katana.

“To purchase stock I imagine.” Came the cool response, but the stoicism was familiar. I sip my tea, it is no longer burning at my mouth luckily, and I watch him slightly as the world outside captures my attention with nothing interesting.

“Ah, a rather stupid move on his part, the ‘ _weapons shop’_ is out of anything useful these days.” I hope he will comprehend my double meaning somewhat, for that would mean he is a shinobi of Konoha as well, someone more trustworthy then a simple stranger among the streets catching an enemy. If the doesn’t, then, I’ll have to wager him to be a shinobi from Iwagakure, Jiraiya had warned me in previous that they have a slight vendetta against Konoha, and on Kakashi in particular -though, that does not necessarily mark him an enemy.

“Yes, always, it seems.” His hand grips his cup beside as my shoulders visibly sag beneath my pitiful rags and haggard cloak. I grin at him, because it appears that I was lucky. At least he doesn’t know who I actually am, and I doubt he would, as my henge jutsu is some of the best in the entire village -not to bag too much, but I’ve gotten a lot of practice.- Obviously, he is not one of Danzo’s ANBU members sent to trace my every move, or I would already have been knocked unconscious and dragged home, its honestly more likely they are still following the clone I left in Konoha; For as I’ve said, I have a great henge, not that anyone of my village can know that.

“What did he do?” I take a bite of my dango. I know he cannot comprehensively answer my question, nor do I expect him to.

“He had some information.”

“Ah.” It would be best for me not to prod for further knowledge on the convict I know. So I turn my attentions more purposefully to the man afore me. He has relaxed slightly in my presence it seems, though not incautious I imagine. “Do you like the snow shinobi-san?” I ask because its simple and unobtrusive, because it is coming soon with the cold months. Never lasts long in the land of fire however.

“I do.” He gives plain answers, and though it is irritating at least I can understand why. Once again the right-side of his cloak faces me.

“Is winter your favourite season?” I want him to speak a little further, I try to smile more at him, for he his apprehensive of me. I feel his stare upon me then, there is hardly a movement I can see from from him as he does so. After a lengthened moment of me twirling my vacant dango stick in wait, and him merely watching me, our server comes forward.

“Would you like to order again?” He says in a stingy voice unsuited for a cheep café. My companion continues to gaze at me, I twirl my stick, I have no money to offer.

His hood shows his left side, I presume to face the man.“Please-” He turns to me ever so slightly, I think. “The same?” My grin stretches large as response, its embarrassing honestly, and I cough to interrupt myself.

“Thank you.” Is what I say, and his head flicks down while the server takes our cups and trays away.

“It isn’t.” He replies, and I can’t say I understand why. “Summer, is my favourite.” Oh, he is replying to my previous question, opening himself slightly. I lean my elbows on the table and rest my chin on my hands, its comfortable.

“Why?” I’m smiling again, his finger taps at the wood again. As if considering.

“My little brother’s birthday.” Maybe its my hormones as people so love to claim, or the tender manner in which his voice sweetens ever-so-higher, but I coo at the admittance. I have often imagined someone to speak to me or at least, about me, with such warmth.

“What have you gotten him?” I have heard of presents, though I have only recived one myself in the form of my drab apartment. Though, I made myself a cake last year- or thereabouts. To mine own surprise he chuckles:

“It is October, not May.” Oh, I don’t particularly pay attention to the flowing months, only the weather, indeed, my birth comes so quickly might have even passed me by and I wouldn’t know. He seems to find me amusing, or at least an entertainment, as he has yet to pay and leave me to myself, I cannot find it within my mind to pay much heed unto my own caution, as it proclaims me a fool for staying. I’ve attempted to keep his interest as it was, though, I hadn’t recently remembered my own staining loneliness awaiting for me at him until now, a few more minutes of company can’t be too much a crime.

My eyes watch him as he slowly eats, in relish for the sweets I think. “Yourself?”

I await a moment, my own ignorance onto society coming fast and obvious, before I can comprehend the question. I want to bang my head to the wood below me at my own ridiculous lack of understanding. “I don’t know if I have one to be fair.” I don’t, its a true answer, I’d never taken to considering it personally and certainly no one has ever thought to ask me. I’d wonder at it slightly as a child, it, and many other simple answers I would give should anyone ask, wonder at my own reasonings for each. Many nights, many weekdays, many celebratory holidays I’d find myself perched within the small space of my balcony and its bars to the village in the best hiding I could from the villagers who may accidentally catch me looking their way.

I’d sat there one day when the academy had been closed, the air had been fresh and crisp in my throat while sharp in my lungs; snow had flickered about before melting once touching the ground, the trees surrounding the village had been turned to orange and reddened, some in a mingled state most beautiful under the dusk light sat on the dirt and blowing into the marketplace occasionally leafs would wonder around and paint the most droll people and things with a fantastical brush of colour it had never before held for the briefest of moments. I’d sat there that day in the fall and thought about the other seasons: the spring; in its rebirth in its rain. The summer, in its brightest beauty in its heat scorching at my skin. At the winter in withering elegance in frigid numbing cold burning at my fingers, my birthday season and cruel reminder of fate. I’d wondered much that day, I’d sat out for many hours in curiosity of myself asking questions about myself unto myself for the sake of entertainment, in bid of curiosity.

I still do not know myself well, I cannot imagine I ever will, but in comparison to the lonely child sitting on a cold balcony pondering existence, I believe I have more of an understanding to myself now. “Autumn.” I say, for I don’t know if I truly have a ‘favourite,’ as I have no grand memories to cast onto any season. However, to me, as I know my life, the fall seems the most candid of all seasons.

He before me takes notice of my stoicism creeping into my emotions, as he leans a little closer in observation, and his motions still for moments at a time. Maybe he waits for an explanation as I had. “I don’t know why.” I don’t. “The colours maybe?” The earth had a precious glow about it with so many brightened tones surrounding the pathways, the dull towns, the poor in their scramblings. I manage a smile at him, for it is all I can offer, I have no solid reasoning. He makes a sound in recognition.

“They are indeed beautiful. What a wondrous world ours could be with a mere splash of colour yes?’ He says it in jest, but candour lingers in his awaiting gaze in his stare to the outside. His voice had become a wisp, nearly, of what it had been, as if in a remembrance, his tapping finger resumed, and he sipped at his tea.

“You are good at reading minds, shinobi-san.” He tensed for a fraction before a gentle sigh left him and all tense muscles released. Perhaps he thought I’d actually been implicating something, I’d meant it as a joke. “I used to sit outside and think the same thing.” I have to pause myself, in slight hesitance I suppose, it was already an unconventional conversation. “Is that also why you like summer?” All blossoms in flowering can be quite beautiful afterall, I know for certain, I’ve raised and watched many plants bloom in the heat of the season -prideful of each,- in affection for the light they provided to the grey apartment I held.

I did not expect him to look in my direction and stare for several minutes before saying: “My brother does just as much unto me as any colour would to the world.” His hood tilts, and thought I catch no true glimpse of him I see his hair sway over his face as he does so, as if he’d just cocked his head to the side, perhaps he wears a compassioned smile underneath his heavy cloak, I do not know; But the warmth that fills me in comfort at his simplistic care for his kin makes something warm flare in my chest, and I find myself wanting to know.


	2. Chapter 2

I wonder as he leaves with a delicate, graced step, if I will see such a man again. My mind ponders at the thought, disregarding its unlikelihood: still possibilities plague me in logical reasoning I had not before now known I’d learnt. 

In stepping into the boundaries of my village I gain no glances, no ill intentioned stares unto my simple presence, I walk as any woman would of Konoha. With my head proudly raised; enough to seem confident but not audacious, I wear a smile as gentle as I can fathom one and cast it to the children running about in the dirted streets. I breathe in the smell of mint from nearby, taking in the scent and allow myself to consider the unwitting kindness the mysterious shinobi had bestowed onto me; melancholy graces me at the thought of his tea steaming and his triple coloured dango beside; perhaps I will see someone a-likened to him again, but in looking to the degraded apartment that remains my decrepit home; I doubt the possibility that whomever I encounter will be the same man.

I dive myself into the alleyway nearest, breaking my henge and dispelling my clone. Still the clothing from my journey remains I pull down the hood upon me, annoyed at my own shortened hair, and check to make certain my breasts where well hidden from any plausible view. My dress is well hidden as well, and though I barely dare to utilize it, the small ragged garment does have its uses for hiding, thus to have it recognized and taken would be more then an irritant. Still, as is regular, I march home with my hands intertwined with my hair behind my head and my legs kicking out in front of me. It is not a tedious task to be innocent, nor to be unassuming and unintelligent, for as it stands; I am. My education had not allowed me much in terms of knowledge, and I had grown by my own merit rather then by the careful guidance of a well intentioned-caretaker. What I do stand capable of is my skill as a survivor, as a woman well accustomed to the streets and the perils of men and women surrounding and I had learned so far younger.

As Uzumaki Naruto, the plague of Konohagakure, it had been an easy lesson to learn. 

Today had not been my first time escaping to the outer towns, there was little provided or available to me in the village. Goods and groceries were far more affordable in the outward locals rather then my hometown, thus I dressed different then my own common brightened orange often, and in frequent escape those cruel menaces who thought me the devil incarnate. Though, it had been my first time ever meeting a shinobi outside the walls, nevermind one whom had a kind elegance unto their aura -at least while in company.-

I get shoved to the side of a building by an astray hip cast purposefully in my direction, I falter in my already short steps, yet I manage to keep my hold to balance even whilst I cast a petulant glare to the retreating man, casting his satisfied smirk over a shoulder. It weren’t an uncommon occurrence about me, as it were, I would be surprised to find myself not harassed by the common citizen, at least once a day. For all those whom turn to stare at me when walking harbour a detest I have never understood for all my years of life within this mighty forest center, they hold upon their shoulders the bane of a long forgone past to which I could never sympathise. 

Disregarding the month, ignoring the cold season of which I am protected from, I have -and do- contemplate the benefit; wonder at what solution it would grant me simply to run. It is a matter of pride guiding my feet at this point, firmly implanting them within the dirt of Konoha; as my mind has already found solace in the consideration I’ve imagined. I think upon it no further to strain my desires improper, I would be found for my chakra alone. A tear forces its way up to my lids, and I end up wiping it away with such a venomous force that my eyes sting in slight at my own stupidity. 

To open my apartment, I expect no one, and I find my expectations met in a mockery. For to one intergained with survival and all its desired -necessary- caution: I can plainly comprehend the obvious signs of someone having been inside my flat, without taking a close examination. The lock is intact, as was the doorframe, yet the window’s latch was broken with a crack upon the hinge. The photoframe I keep of Team Seven has been tilted towards my bedside where it had been facing the entrance way in previous, I always check for such differences; so I cannot feign surprise at the sight. It is in part why all my bras and menstrual supplies are kept in the bottom of my weapons bag. 

I have some spare string about, so I use that to fix the latch on my window: such a repair would do nothing to keep a shinobi or a seasoned robber away, but perhaps someone with little experience might falter. If I could buy a form of extreme glue then perhaps I could seal the window to the frame and stop nary anyone. I set Gama-chan at the bed stand before fixing the photo to where it had been, in precaution. 

I move to change after drawing the curtains, Iruka-sensei had been planning a get together this evening for a few days now, I have saved a few spare coins so I can buy him a bowl of ramen. I cannot tell him much of my day, he would be forced to report that I had left the village for a time in pure loyalty, but I still wish to hear about how his day has gone in comparison. I wish slightly that Jiraiya was about the village, he had an invisible manner of scaring off those who would do me harm without even intending to, plus, it is always nice to see someone who genuinely enjoys my presence besides Kakashi-sensei, Iruka, and maybe Sakura.

Touching at my pocket however, I realize there is a scrap of ripped paper hidden there that hadn’t been before. Naturally, it sits within my cloak pocket, not my dress which has none, and I take it out carefully. The handwriting is modern, sleek and commonly used in higher classed reports, and as there is some coding intergrained within the wording, though only a simplistic code it is one only a Konoha born citizen would comprehend, it was not known outside of the land of fire generally. A smile graces me, for certainly it had been made by the shinobi whom I’d shared dango with at the outer cafe. 

_ ‘This following 7, join me once more.’  _

* * *

By the precise measure of seven days, at the approximation of the same time cast by the shadows I manage to make it to the location as spoken of; in precaution, I did bring with me a kunai for safety, and naturally my chakra remains readily available. Under pure foolish want -I think- I do not believe it will be. The air has brought with it a sharp crisp to its breeze, the perfect weather for a warming cup of tea and some sweets in a questionable cafe. Despite the gentle wind brushing my cheeks, I choose to lean against the wooden walls with my arms out in front of me for protection. There was snow falling in the sky, though it melted in the air and became raindrops quickly. I was luckily safe under the canopy of a tilted roof, though my torn dress had not been the ideal choice for the raining snow, nevermind the season, I had nothing else to fit a feminine woman. I play with a stray piece of my hair, already having chosen to leave should my company take longer then an hour to arrive, my mind had wanted me to be more charitable, yet, I could not afford myself the simplistic luxury of trust I so inherently harboured. Not by that grand measure at least.

Within the exact span of fifteen minutes, though not having counted, I see the same cloak afore me wondering the street alone, with his hood tightly pulled over his head. I had decided to be slightly more free in my appearance, knowing that should the shinobi -and being a konoha man he was likely to- know Uzumaki Naruto, he was unlikely to take in my appearance and much us two together as the same person: For as the fakened mask of Uzumaki Naruto I am a small, five-foot-four freeform boy with little education, short blond hair, lean figure, and tanned skin; that is discluding my personality displayed. As the woman, Uzumaki Naruto, I stand a slightly taller at five-six, with collarbone length blonde hair, curved figure,  _ slightly  _ more darkened skin and as my teacher would so gladly point forth; a somewhat hefty bust that only just fits into a d-cup bra size. 

I wave as he approaches, gliding his feet along the damp path just as he had previously. I’d wondered if I would see his like again, I smile to think my ponderence had been unnecessary. He stops before me and I note he is taller by only a few centimeters by the look of him, I cannot see his eyes, they're hidden, but I do not want him to ponder over what to say in uncertainty, so I take to speaking first. My grin comes automatically, my confidence shields my straining nerves; I had never before met someone in such a way, it grates at my instincts as a shinobi to not attack, but my yarning for friendship outcries the twitching of my hand as it tries to grasp upon my hidden weapons. “So whatcha wanna do?~” I try to sound free, I am happy, but all of the minimal shy nature I have is urging me to be more coy then open. I’m nervous.

Luck springs upon me, as he says little, but I hear a sound come from him as he gestures to the tea shop behind me. I grin in recognition, for the familiar atmosphere is far more alluring to my mind at the moment. I can merely hope that the man afore me is looking for companionship and not expecting a secret mission from me, or something of that nature. We enter, and by mere coincidence, we are sat at the same table with the same small hole in the wall, with the same snobbish waiter waiting on us. Once again he turns to stare out the hole, though his hood flickers in my direction a slight more then it had last time. 

I brought money, but only a small amount, as the rest I’ll need for food later in the week. 

He seems far more prepared, and his graceful voice rings out for both of us, ordering the same as seven days ago, in exact detail. The flush upon my cheeks is by mere embarrassment for predictability, as my mentality so avidly claims. He turns to me, and for a moment I see ivory toned skin peek out from the sleeve of his cloak, by the elegance of his movements he rests his palm -or so I assume- upon the table-top. Typically, introductions would be properly made, but as the both of us are shinobi sitting within a broken teahouse the option is not viable as it stands.

“So, mercenary work?” I ask, moreof, because I have no solid questions formed in preparation, and I had never seen his like in Konoha; even if he, as I, is hiding his identity for protection. That considered, I do presume he is rogue from the village, not that I can place myself as a judge for his type. I watch his hood tilt in slight, as if curious, then his shoulders shrug in a dismal response.

“Of a sort.” I take that to be the reluctant answer it is, sounding to be melancholy, and I favour not asking a man for his depressed dismissal from the shinobi ranks; I know how brutal Konoha can be when one breaks a carefully crafted law: Such as being made to carry a demon unwillingly. I ponder if the man in front of me misses his former home, I cannot bring myself to ask however, it would be rude. He sighs, though we sit in silence for he says nothing and continues his staring out the wall. 

As my tea is brought to me, I take a quickened sip, I do not know if I have ruined our meeting or if the atmosphere about us is simply stale at the moment. I watch the liquid ripple slightly in the ceramic. “Your eyes are as Suna’s bordering ocean.” He states, I wouldn’t know, I pay no attention to them, though I hadn’t thought to cover them either. Was that a mistake? Did he see past my guise? “They are quite beautiful.” Is all he says, a statement once more, not looking to me. I had not truly gained a compliment for many years now, Sasuke had offered me one upon occasion in training sessions when he had been in the village, Jiraiya had once while training when my mood had dipped into something he could not recognize. Sakura had told me I am taller whence I returned to the village, but I don’t know if that stood as a compliment or not.

“You’ve been to the border ocean?” I question, I had been there once with Jiraiya while training, the waters there were gorgeous, lightened blue glistening over a deepened dark blue that was near fathomless. I had taken the opportunity to swim, and that was how my mentor had discovered my secret; surprisingly, he had only taken to lightly teasing me before returning to research some sunbathing women while I’d changed. To be compared to such a beautiful ocean, well, to have my irises compared, makes me blush quite a bit; I want to know for certain that he knows what he speaks of.

I see him turn to me in his minimal way, “of course, I would not have mentioned it otherwise.” His tone manages to sound as a statement, yet I know a question lingers in his sentence, as if asking why I would inquire, while also comprehending the reasoning himself. I force my mind to switch topics, as I offer an out for us both.

“What’s your favourite colour?” I ask for no other topic comes immediate to my head.

“I enjoy grey.” He says instead of making a mockery of my inexperienced question, I laugh a little, but not for his answer. It is a comfort for his blunt response, not many persons would say ‘grey’ as many people consider it an endarkened colour.

“Good choice, I like yellow and blue.” It reminds me of Sasuke in a method, and he was one man I had unconditionally found friendship within, even if it had been obscured. Yellow was more based on the fact that I lack yellow within my own life most of the time, my hair stands a brightened blonde, but I have only ever truly seen yellow whence I had seen the field of buttercups when me and team seven had been on a mission. It had been a moment of innocence I’d never allowed to escape my memory.

I hear him titter slightly, “yellow and blue indeed, my opposition.” His voice is mute of any emotion, but as I listen to him, I can almost comprehend and empathize with the strict stoicism I can hear him portraying. A clear training I’ve not experienced; though I can still understand in a way, the need to be vacant of feeling, there is emotion underneath the man’s tone, but it is so withheld that no one can understand what he hides. 

We’re both under henge, and we both know this of each other, though I believe he feels the necessity to hide the presentation of his emotion not only from me, but from everyone he ever speaks unto. In a way I am more incautious then he, and such a knowledge is saddening.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Naruto's gender is undecided as of yet. They may be genderfluid or he/him or she/her, I haven't decided. 


End file.
